Phantom of the Future
by RDPhantom
Summary: Erik is transported to the future by a freakish storm- or is was it? He begins to make a new life in a new time, helped by unlikely allies, both on the right side of the law and not. And can he forget his past love?
1. Default Chapter

**I would like to thank my friend Harriet for introducing me to the Phantom and his world. I have become facinated with everything Phantom and hope you all enjoy this story. There is a lot of humor and romance, but the darkness will intrude as well. Please feel free to review. Enjoy!**

PHANTOM OF THE FUTURE

By Robin D.

Prologue

Erik scowled out at the torrential rain that fell from the dark, gray skies, cursing the rotten weather and gathering his black cloak around him tightly. The last thing he needed was to come down with pneumonia. Who would take care of him if he did?

With another expletive thrown skyward he dashed out into the street along the Rue Scribe, quickly making his way past the closing shops and businesses. He reached his destination, hurriedly going inside, thankful to be out of the rain for a few moments. The owner of the store looked up from the paperwork he was working on and his heart started beating a rapid dance as always when the Phantom came calling.

"Good evening, Monsieur," he said nervously. "What can I help you with?" The pen he held in his hand began to tremble.

Erik strode purposefully over to the counter, water dripping from his person onto the floor. "I need to purchase more of the music sheet paper that you had in last week." His tall figure seemed to cast a shadow in the whole store, or at least to the shopkeeper.

The man became even more agitated. He was glad that the Phantom came only in the last few moments before closing. "I would love to sell more of that paper to you, sir, however-we are completely out of it," he informed Erik and cleared his throat. He waited for the outburst he was sure would follow, his pen dropping from his shaking hand.

Instead of shouting, Erik leaned his masked face nearer and whispered in his death voice, "Do you have any at all?"

A smile trembled on the little man's round face. "Y-yes, sir, I have some of this other paper, although it's not quite as good a quality."

Straightening, now Erik shouted, "Then wrap up a whole bundle of it for me!" He turned, his cloak billowing out behind him, and proceeded to look around the shop, picking up a couple of new quill pens and some ink.

Once he'd made his purchases, he exited the store, making his way rapidly along the darkened streets. A burning need to finish the composition he was working on made his strides quick and long. He kept his cloak wrapped securely around the bundle that he carried, not wanting a single piece of paper to be ruined by the rain that was falling in sheets from the black heavens above.

Lightning flashed sharply, illuminating the streets for a few seconds as though it were daylight. Erik hurried even faster, all the while cursing the lightning. How he hated it! He started across the bridge, knowing that once across it he could slip down to the secret entrance and thus be out of the wet and wind. Forked streaks of lightning cracked through the inky skies and thunder sounded so close that Erik feared that he would be deafened. He tugged the cloak even closer, not an easy feat due to the wind that constantly whipped around him.

It was even worse up on the bridge, and though Erik was strong and surefooted he found himself having to hold onto the metal rail to stay upright. Lightning streaked down, striking the bridge and powerful electricity sizzled along the handrail, into Erik's left hand and up his arm. White, brilliant light exploded inside his head and a fierce roar filled his ears. Before the blackness enveloped him he wondered, am I dying?

CHAPTER ONE

Someone was talking but Erik couldn't make out what they were saying. Pain radiated from different points of his body, forcing him to lie still for fear of creating more. Again the voice spoke and this time Erik could tell that it was a woman's voice, but still could not decipher the words. Even though his eyes were closed he could tell that there was light wherever he was.

Slowly the events leading up to then began to seep into his memory. He remembered the horrible storm and the lightning that had struck him. No wonder he was hurting! Perhaps he was in heaven, or more likely Hell, considering the heinous acts he'd committed in the past.

Erik opened his eyes a mere slit and was blinded by the light. Quickly he shut them again, wincing at the pain. He cleared his throat, or attempted to, finding it raw and dry.

"Light... hurts eyes," he croaked out, not even recognizing his voice.

The sound of clothing rustling told him that the woman or someone was moving around to his right. In a moment the light was extinguished, easing the strain on his eyes.

"Is that better, sir?" This time when the woman spoke, Erik understood her words. They were indeed English, but she spoke with a strange accent that he couldn't place.

He nodded assent and tried to open his eyes again, finding it easier with the lighting so dim. It took a little while for his vision to clear, but not too long. Within seconds he could see that he was in some kind of a hospital room. The woman must be a nurse, he thought, then caught sight of her. She was attired in a strange blue outfit of pants and a short-sleeved shirt with a V neckline. He was shocked to discover that she wore pants instead of a skirt, along with some sort of soft-looking white shoes. All the women he had ever seen wore dresses or skirts.

He did not know what to think of the way she was dressed, so he said nothing about it.

"Where am I?" he rasped the question at her, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"In St. Mary's hospital."

"I can see that I am in a hospital, but what country is it?" he said becoming irritated.

"The U.S., sir. Are your blankets OK? Are you chilly?" she asked starting to fuss with the tan blanket and white sheet that covered him.

"I assure you that I am fine, madam! Now please tell me what the 'U.S.' is," he demanded, trying to make his voice imposing. It was difficult to do so when he sounded more like a frog than a human.

The blonde haired nurse wore her hair back in a simple ponytail and it shook from side to side as she wagged a finger at him. "Now, now. No need to get your panties in a bunch, sir," she admonished him gently. "We're in the United States of America," she said giving him a quizzical look. "You've heard of it, right?"

The New World! How in blazes had he come to be in America? Just then his gaze caught sight of a strange box with glass in it fixed high on the wall in front of his bed. He stared at it for several moments trying to figure out what it was and if it would cause him any harm.

The nurse must have noticed him looking at it because she picked up a rectangular object from the bed beside him and handed it to him. Erik took it gently, staring up at the woman and waiting for her to explain. He was not disappointed.

"This is your remote control for the TV. Just press this button and it'll come on, OK?" she said and turned to check an odd plastic bag hanging beside his bed.

What was a TV? And what in God's name did "OK" mean? Why was this woman dressed in men's apparel? His head began to throb with the effort it was taking to try and sort all this out. Suddenly he wondered why this woman showed no fear of him and he reached his hands up to his face, discovering that there was no mask there, but some sort of strange cloth-like wrapping. He pressed his face gently and moved his mouth slightly. A slow burning sensation began to spread across the skin of his face.

The lightning had burned his face and God only knew what else! His already terrible face was probably hideous now! He almost moaned in misery, but forced himself to remain strong.

"If you need anything, just press the other button and a nurse will come to help you. Your doctor will be in soon to see you," she assured him and left before he could ask her more.

He slumped his head back against his pillows for a moment then lifted it again, deciding that he had better familiarize himself with his odd surroundings. To his right was another box-like contraption that beeped at him while a red line bounced up and down across the glass face of it. When he attempted to move his right arm, something pricked him. Upon examination, it appeared that some sort of needle was implanted in his hand with a long, thin tube making a trail from him to the strange, clear bag. He pulled the thin, cotton gown they had clothed him in away from his neck and looked down at his nudity. Nude! And little round discs were placed at different invertvals upon his chest. Their strings seemed to belong to the machine that beeped. What in heavens were they doing to him?

Further away from the bed was a pair of ugly windows that showed that it was after sun down. Erik could see several orbs of light and wondered at their source, for they did not look like any flames or lanterns that he had ever seen before.

In the corner was an odd lamp that glowed dimly. Again there appeared to be no flame and Erik could only wonder at its energy source. In the opposite corner stood what resembled an armoire only smaller and very ugly to his way of thinking. He was used to ornate pieces of furniture, things of great beauty, not these sterile, cold pieces. On the wall to his left was the door to his room. It was closed, preventing him from seeing what lie beyond. The walls were a crisp, flat white with only a few pictures to break the monotony of them.

Tired now, Erik lay his head back on his pillows and decided that he needed to rest. He sensed that things weren't going to get any clearer for some time and it would be best to face things when he was a little stronger. How he loathed feeling like a newborn kitten, helpless and defenseless. The New World, eh? He hoped he would find the answers to his many questions, but doubted it would be any time soon. Sleep came to claim him as he lay musing about the circumstances in which he found himself.

Some time later a faint sound woke him. He struggled to clear the fog that held his mind in obscurity, blinking his eyes rapidly and turning his head towards the sound that he had heard. He found a man clad in a white jacket standing at the foot of the bed.

He smiled when he saw that Erik was awake. "Well, well. You're finally awake, Mr. Doe. How are you feeling?"

"First of all, Monsieur, my name is not Mr. Doe and secondly I have known people who felt better after being trampled by horses," Erik responded. His voice was slightly better and he was able to sound slightly more forceful.

"I'm sorry, sir. I realize that Doe can't be your last name, but we don't have any name listed for you because you had no identification on you. So if you'll tell me what it is we can put it on your chart," the man smiled reassuringly again.

"Who are you?" Erik asked, choosing to ignore the man's statement.

"My name is Dr. Edwards and you're my patient," the man said extending his hand to Erik. Erik took it and shook it briefly.

"Pray tell what is my condition?"

"I don't blame you for being concerned, sir. It seems that you were struck by lightning and have suffered severe burns on your face and some minor ones at various places. We had trouble getting a good heart rhythm at first but then you responded to our efforts. You're going to be weak for a while and we'll need to have a plastic surgeon look at your face, but otherwise you should be fine. Uh, there is one other thing I need to mention though," Dr. Edwards paused.

Becoming impatient, Erik motioned with his hand and said, "Out with it, Doctor!"

"OK."

There was that word again, Erik thought.

"If you keep using drugs so heavily you're going to be dead before long, lightning or no lightning. I can recommend a good rehab if you like," Dr. Edwards informed him sternly.

Anger flooded through Erik. How dare this man speak to him in such a manner!

"I do not wish you to recommend a 'rehab', whatever that may be and you'll be more respectful of your tone of voice to me from this moment on. Is that understood?"

Dr. Edwards moved in closer to Erik and he thought for a moment that the doctor intended some kind of harm.

"Let's get something straight right off. I am the doctor and you are my patient. You may be used to running the show wherever you're from, but here in this room, in this hospital I'm in charge for as long as you're here. Got it?" The man's green eyes bore into Erik's and Erik was forced to admit a grudging respect for him. After all, didn't he insist that the managers and other employees of the opera house obey him?

"Point taken, good doctor," he said, his anger dwindling away. "What is a plastic surgeon?"

Dr. Edwards shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. "I can't believe in this day and age that someone doesn't know what a plastic surgeon is. Where are you from?"

"France. Paris to be exact."

"Really? They have plastic surgeons there, though." The doctor shrugged. "Anyway, a plastic surgeon is someone who can repair damage to someone's face or reconstruct it to be more beautiful, according to the patient's point of view. They can also repair skin on other parts of the body as well."

Unbidden, Erik's hands came up to touch the wrapping around his face. Could it be true that in this New World they had such magical powers? That you could actually restore a face to what it should have been? How was this possible? What kind of sorcery did they use? As a master magician, Erik was no stranger to trickery, but never had he heard of such a thing.

"Do you mean to say that you have persons who are capable of repairing hideously scarred skin and making it appear normal?" he inquired incredulously.

Dr. Edwards chuckled. The way this man acted was as though he'd never heard of such a thing. "Yes. And we have several excellent surgeons on staff here that can perform the operations that you need. If you're agreeable, that is."

Erik's mind whirled with the possibilities such a procedure would open to him. Perhaps he wouldn't have to hide in fear of persecution any longer. Perhaps he would be able to find a woman to love him who would not shrink from his touch or scream when she looked at him. Perhaps he would drive himself mad with all these thoughts. He turned his attention back to Dr. Edwards.

"If such a thing can be done, then so be it," he affirmed.

"I have to warn you though. The results aren't immediate so you'd have to be patient while you heal."

Erik would have snorted if it would not have caused great pain. "After living the life I have all these years, I can assure you that as long as there is a chance of definite improvement, I will pursue this at all costs."

"What do you mean by that exactly?" Dr. Edwards face showed clearly his puzzlement.

Erik turned and gazed out the window at the orbs of light there, wondering just how much to tell the doctor. He returned his gaze to the doctor.

"I have been deformed all my life, from the time my mother gave birth to me. This was not all done by the lightning that struck me. To have any hope that I could have a normal if not a handsome face-" Tears clogged Erik's throat and he was unable to continue.

Dr. Edwards nodded his head sagely, comprehending what Erik was telling him.

"In the morning one of the surgeons will be in to see you and talk with you more about the surgery. For now though, try and get some rest. What is your name? We really need to have it on your file," Dr. Edwards insisted.

Erik pondered on what last name to give himself since he did not have one. After a few moments he made a decision.

"My name is Erik. Erik Giry," was his reply. Since he had never used a last name he chose to use the name of one of the few people in the world that he trusted completely.

"Well, Mr. Giry, get some shut-eye and I'll see you tomorrow, OK?" Dr. Edwards moved towards the door, intending to leave.

"Dr. Edwards?"

"Yes?"

"I do have one other question," Erik informed him.

"Which is?"

"What does the word 'OK' mean? I am not familiar with some of these foreign terms, you see."

Edwards chuckled. "It means 'alright' or 'fine', depending on which context you use it." Seeing that this further baffled his patient he explained further. "If I'm going to ask you if you're fine I would say 'Are you OK?'. Or if I asked how you were, you would reply, 'I'm OK.' See what I mean? You could also use it to mean 'yes'. If I asked you to do something you might say 'OK.' Got it?"

Erik nodded, thankful to have at least one question answered.

"Good. If you need anything, just ring your bell and the nurses will help you out," Dr. Edwards closed the door quietly behind him.

"OK," Erik said experimentally to himself. "I'm OK, how are you?" He laughed softly to himself over how strange this word sounded in his own voice. He tried it out a few more times then fell silent. He pondered the fact that he was not dreaming. He had too much pain to be asleep, he knew. Yet how could he truly be in a different country and apparently somewhere in the future as well? He wondered what year it was exactly.

There was nothing in his room that indicated a date at all.

Sighing, he lowered his gaze to his lap and caught sight of the rectangular thing they called a call button and remembered that the nurse said the control for the TV was on it as well. What the devil was a TV? Well, since sleep did not seem forthcoming, he might as well find out. Gingerly he pressed the indicated button and prepared himself for whatever would happen. There was a brief clicking sound followed by a low hum of some sort. Suddenly voices began coming from the box-thing hanging on the wall. Erik looked up just in time to see images coming into view.

"Buy Purina for your dog and keep him healthy and active for years to come," a man was saying while a large black dog ran happily through a field. Erik was watching the animal intently, thinking it a handsome animal when the picture changed abruptly.

Now the box thing showed a man attired in a strange sort of dress suit sitting behind an odd looking desk next to a dark haired woman dressed in a suit jacket and blouse.

"What is this?" Erik asked out loud to no one. "And why is she dressed in such a mannish style?"

"Welcome back to NCS News desk," the woman said.

"Thank you," Erik replied.

"Today is September 20th, 2004. An aircraft carrier off the coast of California went down earlier this evening under suspicious circumstances. There to find out the unfolding details is our chief Western correspondent Adam Phillips. Adam?"

September 20th of the year 2004. Erik was dumbfounded. How was it possible that he could have been transported through so much time? He quelled the panic that rose within him, wanting to run out into the hallway and shake someone until they told him what he wanted to know. Which was? Too many things. While fear held him in its grip, fascination and curiosity were also strong within him. Hadn't he always been obsessed with the future and inventions? Hadn't he always wanted to know what the world would be like centuries from his time?

Erik calmed himself, knowing that losing control would not serve him well. All his questions could be answered if he only took advantage of the opportunity he'd been given. And what better way to do that than with a new face?

"Oh, Erik, what are you thinking? You don't know a soul here, you have no money and no idea even where you're at or where to go," he said out loud again.

He started watching the box-TV again, soaking up what the man and woman were telling him. It took him a while to understand that though he could see and hear everything they said and did, they however, could not see or hear him. If he had been feeling stronger he would have liked to get up and inspect the TV closer. He noticed that in the right upper corner of the TV there was a number. He wondered if there were other things to look at and pressed the button again. The picture flipped and music unlike he had ever heard assaulted him, making him jump. A man with wild, shaggy hair was jumping around on a large stage while an audience screamed at him. Erik watched intently, noticing that they seemed to be yelling in approval instead of jeering him off the stage. He played an odd instrument that resembled a large violin, but sounded nothing like it. He found it difficult to distinguish a singular melody because each instrument seemed to be playing on of its own instead of supplementing the main melody. Erik pressed the button again when the man began screaming something he couldn't understand, making his head hurt.

Music and singing again. This time though it was quieter, yet still strange. A woman in pants and a short sleeved shirt of some sort walked through a barn filled with horses while singing, "Any man of mine better be proud of me..."

Erik found himself entranced by her dark eyes and exotic beauty, and the fact that her clothes left very little to the imagination. He watched her sing and dance until her song was over and a program started about a psychic. Disgruntled, he changed the program again. More music, but the woman singing this time made him bolt up in his bed. Her voice was haunting, soaring, magnificent and Erik was electrified by it. He did not know the song she sang, but he was mesmerized by her cinnamon brown eyes and the emotion she put into her performance.

It was not opera that she sang, but very pleasant to his ears just the same. When the song ended, he caught the name that showed in the bottom corner of the screen. Celine Dion, it said. Celine Dion. Of course she would be French, Erik thought, with such a voice and such beauty, she'd have to be. Then she was gone and some other music came on. Disgusted, Erik kept clicking the button until the TV shut off again. Now that he was thoroughly exhausted, Erik knew that sleep would not be far off. He closed his eyes, going over the details about the magic surgery that Dr. Edwards had told him earlier. He fell asleep dreaming of performing with Celine Dion in a perfect duet.

"Mr. Giry, time to take your medication now. Wake up, Mr. Giry."

It was a different nurse that woke him, Erik noticed. The square piece of plastic she wore on her shirt said her name was Delores. She was a plump woman with short curly, gray hair and glasses. She had an air of authority and efficiency about her.

"Hello, madame. What is it?" he asked sleepily.

"Sorry to have to wake you up, but it's time to take your meds," she repeated and pressed a button that elevated his head some more. "Here's your water and here's your pills."

Erik accepted both and downed the pills quickly. He was not fond of taking medication, but felt that the staff here knew what was best for him. He hoped. He handed the cup that had contained the water back to her.

"What time is it, madame?"

"Six a.m. Are you feeling hungry?" Delores asked as she checked his IV bag.

Erik thought for a moment before answering. Yes, he did feel hungry.

"Yes. Would it be possible for me to have some breakfast?"

"Of course. They start serving at seven so it won't be too long now," she replied and pulled out an odd contraption from a drawer in the stand beside his bed. She moved as if to lay it on him and Erik retreated from her touch.

Delores frowned and shook her head. "I'm not going to hurt you, Mr. Giry. I just want to take your blood pressure."

"Take it? Will you give it back? And what do you intend to do with it once you have it?"

She laughed outright at him. "You're something else, Mr. Giry. I don't take your blood pressure away from you; I just need to check it, to make sure you're OK. I'll mark it down on your chart."

"Oh. OK, then," he agreed reluctantly and held his arm out to her.

She wrapped the blue band around his arm, securing it with a strip of what looked to him of tiny black teeth. A long black tube ran from it to a bulb, which Delores began to squeeze. The band began to swell and add pressure to his arm. She kept squeezing until the band was almost painfully tight on his arm, then she twisted a small silver knob at the top of the bulb. Erik could feel and hear the air leaving the band. In another moment, Delores undid the black teeth, which made a scraping noise and took it away, tucking it back in the drawer it had come out of.

"Was it OK?" Erik asked. It was getting easier to use this new word.

"A little high, but that's to be expected. I need to take your temperature now."

She produced another instrument, which she placed in his ear for a second and then withdrew. "98.7. No fever, that's great. OK, Mr. Giry, breakfast will be soon. Just rest 'til then." She departed swiftly, leaving Erik to puzzle over seeing more gadgets.

Medicine certainly seemed to have come a long way in the past couple of centuries. His stomach growled lightly, reminding him that he hadn't taken food for quite some time. He hoped breakfast would not be far off.


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

Two days later found Erik to be coming along very nicely and one of the more popular patients on his floor with the nurses. His foreign accent and Old World charm had even Dolores fawning over him. Never having attention from females before, Erik did not feel guilty about taking advantage of this newfound experience. He coaxed and flirted shamelessly, getting his way with almost everything from his favorite foods from the kitchen to having his pillows fluffed regularly.

His curiosity about the time he had been transported to was voracious and he had a couple of the nurses read him several of the daily papers to keep him informed of the world's events around the globe. His genius's mind devoured the information with a rapidity that was astounding. Erik watched TV every day as well, discovering that he enjoyed soap operas and having Dolores teach him how to read the TV Guide. Soon she was sneaking into his room on her breaks to keep up on her favorites since they seemed to be the ones Erik liked the most as well.

On the third day he'd been in the hospital, Dr. Edwards came into his room with another man following him.

"Hello, Erik. How are you doing?"

Erik smiled. "I'm OK, and you?"

Edwards chuckled at his use of the new word. "Just fine. Erik, I want you to meet Dr. Stepanik. He's our top plastic surgeon and he's quite interested in your case. I'm going to leave you in his capable hands and I'll be around to talk to you soon."

"Very well, Dr. Edwards. Thank you," Erik responded with a nod of his head.

Once Dr. Edwards had departed, Dr. Stepanik sat down on the chair next to the bed and held out his hand. "It's good to meet you, Erik. I understand that you're being well looked after," he said smiling.

Erik took his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Yes, the nurses here are quite remarkable to be sure," he agreed.

"I came to talk to you today about the kind of surgery you'll be needing. Dr. Edwards has filled me in, but I need to perform an examination for myself. Is that alright with you?"

Erik leveled a steady gaze at Stepanik. "Dr., I am very willing- no make that extremely eager to do whatever is necessary to repair my face. I hope that Dr. Edwards has informed you that most of the disfigurement is quite old, though."

Stepanik nodded. "Yes, he did. Now, I'm going to take off your bandage and take a look at what we'll need to do." So saying, the doctor took out a pair of small scissors and proceeded to cut away the gauze wrapped around his head. When he was done there was no exclamation of fright from the doctor as Erik had expected. The man was totally professional, turning Erik's head this way and that with gentleness and patience. After a few moments had passed the doctor straightened and smiled grimly at Erik.

Dear God, it must be beyond repair! Erik began to panic, imagining how horrible he must look.

"You're right, Erik. The scarring and disfigurement are very extensive."

Erik hung his head, hope dying within his breast.

"The good news is that I've seen worse and although it may take two or three operations, I can help you."

Joy surged through Erik as the doctor's words sunk in. "You're saying that I may have a normal face yet?"

Stepanik nodded. "Yes, Erik. I can give you a normal face, perhaps we can even make you good-looking."

"That would be wonderful. Tell me, what is all this going to cost me? I'm afraid I've not much money," Erik told Dr. Stepanik in a worried tone.

Stepanik held up his hand. "Let's not worry about that right now. We'll talk about that later. Right now I want you to rest and let yourself heal some more. Your burns are still too raw to do anything with right now." He walked over to a cabinet and extracted a large roll of gauze and one of surgical tape. Carefully he rewrapped Erik's head, making sure to leave his eyes, nostrils and mouth clear.

"There, now be a good patient and I'll be back on Monday to take another look and let you know more about the kind of procedure we'll perform on you. Have a good week-end," Stepanik told him and turned to exit the room.

"Dr. Stepanik? Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," the doctor smiled and then left Erik alone with his thoughts.

3


	3. Chapter Three

**I would like to thank all my reviewers thus far. I'm enjoying myself a lot and I'm glad to see that all of you are as well. To Jadedrose, please reread the part in the first chapter about the music videos. Erik changed the channel after Shania's video finished. I can't imagine Celine singing country either. LOL. Enjoy the next chapter everyone!**

CHAPTER THREE

The first surgery Dr. Stepanik had preformed had taken a long time. It laid the basic foundation for all that the doctor would have to do in order to give Erik a new face. Dr. Stepanik knew he had his work cut out for him in this case, but he was up for the challenge. Cases like Erik's were the reason he had become a plastic surgeon that specialized in burn victims. But between the damage that Erik had been born with and the burns inflicted by the lightning, Dr. Stepanik knew that even with all the modern day technology and his own know-how, Erik's face might not ever be perfect. It all depended on how the skin responded and how well Erik healed.

They'd encountered problems a few days after Erik was admitted, when he'd begun to go through withdraw from heroin addiction. He'd gone full blown cold turkey off the stuff, although admittedly not by choice, and it hadn't been pretty. They'd seen the volatile, dark side of Erik's personality and the only one other that Dr. Edwards that had been able to handle him was Delores. She wouldn't take his abuse and informed him in an icy voice that it was his own fault that he was suffering so badly. She also explained to him that he needed to get the drugs completely out of his system if they were to do the surgeries on his face that he needed. That had made the decision for him. The need for the drugs was overridden by the desire to have a normal face for the first time in his life.

Delores came into Erik's room the morning of his second surgery, intent on preparing him for the operating room. It was just beginning to get light out, the grey dawn giving way to the sun that was peeking over the towering office building visible from the window. She stopped just inside the door when she saw that he was already awake and staring out at the lightening skyline. His face was still bandaged, but his profile was different, even through the bandages. Dr. Stepanik's work was very evident to the trained eye and Delores had been dealing with burn victims for a long time.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Madame?" Erik's voice was warm and low, yet it startled Delores because she hadn't thought he'd heard her come in. She kept forgetting how acute his senses were.

She smiled and came to stand beside the bed, reaching for his hand. His long fingers folded themselves around her small, plump hand. Delores rubbed his cold fingers with her free hand, much as a mother might when comforting her child. She wondered at how fond she'd grown of her patient. It wasn't wise for a nurse to become overly involved with the people they treated, but there were some cases that were special and Erik was one of them.

He had many facets, she'd discovered. Sometimes he was a lost, lonely child needing comfort while at others he turned angry, his temper turbulent and frightening. And right now was another side that he only showed to a select few; a gentle, contemplative mood.

"What's beautiful, Erik?" She called him by his given name now, after he'd vehemently instructed her to do so. In truth, he enjoyed the attention of his staff as he'd come to think of them, and liked hearing his name. After being called "The Phantom" for so long, it was wonderful to be called his real name.

"The sun. I've hidden from the daylight for so long that I never had much of opportunity to watch the sunrise. Is it any wonder that poets have written so much of the sun? It does so much for this earth; provides warmth, assists the plants to grow and keeps us all from living in utter darkness." Erik turned his gaze to meet Delores's and she was arrest by their azure blue depths. He has such odd eyes, she thought again. Mesmerizing, really. They reflected the light, even dim light and changed color depending on his mood.

Her brow furrowed and she squeezed Erik's hand. "Why would you hide from the daytime? Where did you hide?" None of them knew much about his background. He'd chosen not to fill them in on anything not related to his medical treatment.

His eyes closed in his bandaged mummy's face and he inhaled a deep breath. He was trying to decide how much to tell her and how much to leave out. Should he tell her anything at all or just pretend anger to make her drop the subject. Erik opened his eyes again and regarded Delores intently, taking in the curly, slightly disheveled gray hair and kind eyes. She was a compassionate person Erik knew and so far he'd found no reason to distrust her. She'd seen him through a very difficult patch in the two and a half weeks he'd been in the hospital.

"I would like to explain myself to you, my dear, truly. But I would have your word that you would never repeat what I tell you to another soul so long as you live. Do I have that promise?"

His eyes bored into hers, causing Delores's skin to break into goosebumps. The hair along her nape stood up, something that always warned her of danger. She'd never ignored it and had never regretted it. She knew that whatever Erik would tell her would somehow alter her life. For worse? Would she regret keeping a promise made to this man of mystery? Something in his gaze prompted her to agree. Maybe it was a certain integrity she saw there. Or maybe it was her curiosity that spurred her on. She couldn't tell, but she also couldn't refuse him.

"Erik, I promise that whatever you tell me will not go any further than you and me. If I had a stack of bibles, I would swear on them."

After several moments of intense scrutiny, Erik smiled slightly.

"I believe you, good woman. And so you shall have the full story. But perhaps we should wait until after my surgery. We don't want to keep the good doctor waiting, now do we?"

"Oh, crap, Erik! I still have to give you your pills! See what you do to me? Make me forget what I'm here for. Shame on you!" she scolded him in what he liked to call her nurse's voice and started flitting about. In no time he'd had the medication that would begin to relax him, preparing him for the surgery and she'd taken his vitals, as he'd learned they were called. Thanks to television shows such as ER and General Hospital, Erik had gleaned much medical terminology.

Jesse the orderly burst into the room as Delores was checking Erik's IV. He was a young black man with a big smile and a thick skin. No matter how much Erik yelled and ranted at him, Jesse just went about his business, doing whatever his job required him to do at the moment. One day, after a particularly vulgar stream of obscenities, Jesse had just turned to Erik and said, "Ya'll done now? Feel better? Good. Glad you got that off your chest, E. I'll see you in the morning and we'll do this all over again."

_E._ The nickname that Jesse had given him. He was the only one who dared to call Erik that. Not even Delores tried it. Although Erik was loath to let on, he actually liked the fact that someone had given him a nickname. He'd been offended at first, not understanding that it wasn't done out of disrespect, but because Jesse liked him. But once Delores had explained it to him, Erik had understood the reasoning behind such a thing.

"Yo, E! Time to get a move on, man. The doc is waitin' for you," the young man informed him, patting the gurney he pushed.

"Are you sure that you're qualified to operate that thing?" Erik asked as he removed the covers and began to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

"Been doin' it for a coupla years now. Ain't killed nobody yet." Jesse grinned broadly. "But I might just make an exception in your case. Now get your ugly white butt on this gurney."

Erik chuckled and stood, unfolding his tall, lanky form from the bed. It never failed to surprise Delores how tall he was. He just didn't look it while he was laying in bed.

"Just for that, I might not tie my gown in the back, since you seem to have such a fixation on my posterior. Perhaps I shall grant you a peek."

Delores choked back a laugh at the grimace on Jesse's face.

"Man, that's just nasty. Del, double gown him in the future, will you?" Jesse made gagging noises as he rolled his patient down the hallway.

Delores couldn't hold her mirth in any longer and her shoulders shook as it came out. "Good luck, Erik!" she called after them. "You're in good hands."

"That remains to be seen! If I'm not in the operating room within twenty minutes, send a search party after me!" Erik instructed her before Jesse turned a corner to the left and they were gone from her sight.


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

"He's pacing in there like some kind of wild animal, Doctor." The young night shift nurse, Mindy Winters chewed a nail and hugged herself with her other arm. "I mean, he yelled at me when I just wanted to give him fresh water. He's a wacko, Dr. Edwards, I'm telling you. He should be moved up to Psych, four north or whatever. I won't go back in there. I don't care if you fire me!" Her dark eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip wavered dangerously.

Bradley Edwards sighed and patted Mindy's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll go take care of it. I wanted to talk to him anyway," he reassured her.

Mindy sniffed and reached for a tissue. "I wondered why you were here so late." She dabbed at her eyes and squared her shoulders. "I better get back to work. I have paperwork to get done." So saying, she sat down behind the desk and pulled a pile of charts to her.

Brad sighed and ran a hand through his short blonde hair. It stood up in tufts now, adding to his already disheveled appearance. It had been a bitch of a day, everything going wrong. And now he had to deal with Mr. Giry. The perfect end to a perfect day, he thought as he opened the door to Erik's room and shut the door behind him.

Erik was indeed pacing the floor, his long legs carrying him rapidly back and forth in front of the windows. His agitation was palpable; the room seemed charged with energy.

_Too bad I can't borrow some of that energy,_ Brad thought as he sat down in the chair by the bed. "What's wrong, Erik? You've scared the hell out of poor Mindy out there. What's going on?"

Erik paced for a moment as if he hadn't heard, then stopped abruptly and came to tower over Brad, his blue eyes gleaming in his bandaged face. Their color was vibrant in the glare of the light from over the bed. Erik's chest rose and fell a little more rapidly than it should have, indicating his upset. Brad was surprised and pleased at the physical changes in Erik since he'd been his patient. When he'd first arrived at St. Mary's, Erik had been bone thin, ribs showing and his backbone clearly defined. He'd been malnourished, crapped out on drugs and his heart had skipped beats from time to time.

Now, a month later, his heart was no longer skipping beats, but was strong and healthy. He was completely clean and his form had fleshed out with the gain of thirty-five pounds. This was due in part to the fact that his physical activity had been restricted until his heart condition was brought under control. The other factor was that he was eating three meals on a regular basis and seemed to have developed a strong sweet tooth. The weight wasn't hurting him, in fact he looked great, Brad thought. Now if they could just deal with his increasingly bad temper, they'd have it made.

Finally, Erik answered him. "I want to see my face. I want to see what's been done to it." He'd never dreamed he'd ever have a normal face, one that would allow him to go out in public without people screaming and laughing at him. It was driving him insane, this waiting. He understood that he needed to heal. He was no stranger to medicine or how the body worked, but he wanted so badly to view the work that had been done on him. Plus, he was starting to get cabin fever. He was used to moving about freely, even if it was mostly in the shadows and in his underground hideaway. This forced inactivity was becoming unbearable.

"I know it's been hard on you, waiting all this time. But the bandages aren't supposed to be removed for two more days. Dr. Stepanik's orders. He's the best, Erik and you have to trust his judgment. I think the problem is that you're feeling better and you're getting restless. I have something to talk to you about that may distract you for awhile."

Erik gave a huge sigh and sat down on the bed melodramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. What he really wanted to do was to run in the bathroom and rip the bandages from his face. He wanted to see what his nose looked like. He'd never really had a true nose before and feeling it through the gauze was just not giving him much of an idea about its appearance. He had no trouble breathing, but he wondered how his new nose would affect his singing voice. There was no way to know right now, so he turned his attention back to the doctor.

"Alright! What is it you wish to discuss?" he asked impatiently, but not without curiosity.

Brad cleared his throat and sat a little straighter. "I've been holding your belongs for you. The clothes you were wearing were pretty burnt. I still have them, but I don't think they'll be much use to you. But there were some very interesting items in some of your pockets."

Erik blinked a few times trying to remember what all he'd been carrying that night. He'd been to the music shop, buying staff paper and pens. That meant he'd had money. His eyes widened and slid back to Dr. Edwards as he also remembered that his Punjab lasso had been in the hidden pocket inside his cloak. "And what did you find, monsieur?"

"Well, there's some kind of small rope contraption and quite a bit of money. I have no idea what the rope is, but I do recognize that the money is old. Very old. A friend of mine who's a vintage coin dealer appraised the two different types of coins in the sack they were in and they're worth a lot of money." Brad watched Erik closely, trying to gauge his reaction.

Erik did a quick mental calculation of what he'd been carrying on him. Yes, he'd had quite a tidy sum on him when he'd started crossing the bridge.

He nodded his head, saying, "Yes, I remember carrying a large sum of money with me. And you say you've had it appraised? What exactly is it worth in this day and age?"

Brad shook his head and gave a short, derisive laugh. "You're a pretty rich fellow, Erik. If that's your real name."

The doctor's accusation made Erik narrow his eyes and tighten his jaw. "I can assure you that that is my name, Dr. Edwards. What makes you think it's not?"

Rubbing a hand through his hair again, Brad said, "Because I've tried to have you investigated and as near as anyone can tell Erik Giry doesn't exist. That and the fact that you're carrying around a large amount of old coins that are worth a small fortune. Are you into something illegal?"

Erik's irritation was rapidly growing into fury. "No, I am not involved in anything illegal. That money was mine. I didn't steal it, I earned it. That was part of my—salary." That was true. The francs and other coins were only a part of his payment from the Opera House, the rest being hidden in his underground sanctuary.

Brad's gray eyes darkened. "Don't play me for a fool, Erik. Who the hell pays people in money that was made over a hundred years ago? Would you mind telling me that?" his voice had risen several notches.

"That's very easy to answer, monsieur." Erik's tone had quieted to a deadly whisper that made Brad's stomach do a flip-flop. "I get paid with that particular currency because I am not from this time. Nor am I from this country, as you know. My last place of residence was the fifth level cellar, across the lake, underneath the Paris Opera House, the year eighteen eighty and one."

Erik took an immense pleasure in the shock that caused the doctor's mouth to fall open. He chuckled, then let loose a full-blown Phantom laugh. He laughed even harder when Brad got up from his chair and backed up against the wall. The laughter rang off the walls in the small enclosure. Brad clapped his hands over his ears and shook his head until the sound faded and Erik was once again quiet.

Slowly, Brad's hands came away from his offended ears, his breathing fast and hard. "Wh-what the hell was that? How?" His voice cracked at this point. He swallowed and tried to continue. "Where did that come from? So loud like that? And what do you mean that you're from the year eighteen eighty one? That's impossible. You're talking about time travel and no one has done that. They've tried but no one's ever succeeded." Now it was Brad's turn to pace as he tried to reason everything out. "I mean at least nothing's ever been published that time travel has actually occurred. This can't be-"

"Why not? Just because you say so? There are many things that can't be explained. Think about it, Bradley-may I call you Bradley?" Erik went on at Brad's distracted nod. "Good. Doesn't it all make sense? My clothing is a good place to start. I've watched a lot of television since I've been- well, here and no one except actors in recreated costumes dress in anything resembling my attire." Erik propped an elbow on his knee and turned his palm up. "Then there's the money. You're right, not even in today's France would this money be used. It's not stolen, it's mine, paid to me by the good monsieurs who run- or ran the Opera house. They'd be dead now, of course-" Erik's breath caught as another realization came to him.

They'd all be long gone by now. His beloved Christine, who'd betrayed him with the vile Raoul. Mrs. Giry, from whom he'd borrowed his last name, and her daughter Meg. Carlotta and all the other members of the opera. They would have to be dead. Sorrow crashed through him, battling with anger and bitterness at his situation. He'd been so preoccupied with receiving a new face and recovering from his ordeal that he'd completely blocked out the reality of his situation. His whole life, the only life he'd known was gone. All of it lost to him on a dark, storm-ridden night when the cruel fates had added another horrid twist to his already wretched existence.

Now she had been stripped from him once again. There would be no chance meeting, no surprising her or catching a glimpse of her. She was permanently erased from his life. He choked back the tears, the grief. Mrs. Giry, his one true ally, existed no more. She'd been his savior when they were both youngsters and now she was gone.

His voice was ragged with emotion as he spoke.

"Why else would I have no comprehension of this modern world or the technology? Things that you take for granted, TV's, electric, automobiles… they hadn't been invented yet, in the era that I come from. I knew nothing of such things. Why do you think I was studying everything so intently, asking endless questions? I still do. There's so much I still have to learn, to adapt to in order to survive." He raised his gaze to Brad's, the strange blue burning brightly. "What other choice do I have?"

Brad shook his head as though trying to clear away a fog. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. There's no way this could be true. I'm going to order a psych eval on you tomorrow. There has to be another explanation," he protested. Yet as he looked back into Erik's eyes, a dark certainty wound its way into his chest that the man who sat on the bed before him was just as he said. _From another time._


	5. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Dr. Edwards rose and showered very early the morning of Erik's unveiling, as his patient called it. He towel dried his short hair and combed it down. Laying the comb down, Brad gave himself the once over in the mirror. Dark smudges appeared under his gray eyes and his cheekbones were a little more pronounced.

"You look just great, Brad. Like you've been run over by a truck," he told his reflection. He sighed and padded back into his bedroom to dress. The past couple days had been a real rollercoaster ride. After Mr. Giry had confided to him that he was from another time era and shocked the hell out of him with that eerie laugh, he'd only stayed long enough to tell Erik how much money he would have from the sale of his coins. Then he'd left, practically bolting from the room. When he'd arrived home that night he'd gathered up the burnt remnants of Erik's clothes and had taken them to a friend of his who was an anthropologist. Stuart Tyson had then in turn given them to a colleague specializing in the dating of clothing.

Brad hadn't waited too long before receiving the results. These clothes were definitely from the late 1800's and made from very fine material. The piece of rope had turned out to be what was called a Punjab lasso, a weapon of death usually used by a skilled individual. It, too, had been dated back to the mid to late 1800's. Lucky for Erik that it had been the hospital staff that found it or he would have been arrested for carrying a concealed weapon. That is providing that the police had known what the rope was. It was not like any other rope Brad had ever seen. There was a shine to the thin rope that was only about as thick around as a pencil and about six feet long. Brad shivered as he thought about Stuart telling him that the lasso was still in working condition and could strangle a large man with little trouble.

Everything was pointing to the fact that Erik had indeed traveled through time and landed in present day America. Brad was a scientist, a man of medicine and didn't believe in things that couldn't be explained rationally. But if he did believe that time travel was possible, it still didn't make sense that Erik would have ended up in a totally different country. How had that happened, if that's what had occurred? Brad knotted his tie and headed to the living room to grab his jacket. It was just starting to get warm out. The first week in October was proving to be very nice and Brad just draped the jacket over the passenger seat of his gray Geo Storm.

He drove to the hospital, his mind occupied by the events of the last couple days. He hadn't even been to see Erik, instead just reading his chart and ordering any changes in his care. There hadn't been many as Erik's health was rapidly improving. The truth was that he just hadn't had the guts to face his odd patient again. He had no choice this morning. When Dr. Stepanik had asked him to be present in case Erik's heart couldn't handle the shock, he couldn't refuse as Erik's doctor.

He parked in the doctor's garage and entered the hospital, promptly running into Jessie.

"Hey, Doc! Today's the big day for E, huh? He's all wound up, that's for sure. Didn't even eat his breakfast." Jesse regarded Brad with some concern when all he received was tight smile. "You ok, man?"

Brad nodded and started down the hall away from Jesse. "Yeah. Fine. Had a long day yesterday, that's all. See you later."

"Ok. See ya!"

Brad took the elevator up to Erik's floor. He'd ordered the psych eval on Erik and the results should be on his chart this morning. He barely greeted Mindy who was just coming off the night shift before snatching the chart from it's place in the rack. Flipping the pages so rapidly they almost tore from the chart, he scanned them until he found what he was looking for. He read through the detailed report that Dr. Hughes had written, fear and confusion growing with each word.

"Although the patient would appear to have a rather well developed ego and thinks himself very important, I could find no traces of any overt mental defect besides a lack of anger control. I, therefore, declare the subject sane and able to function normally in day to day life."

Brad slammed the chart down on the counter and rubbed a hand over his face. Jesus! What the hell was going on? What kind of story had Erik given Dr. Hughes? He stormed down the hall to Erik's door, turned the handle and went in. It was almost pitch black in the room, the only light coming from the lights in the parking lot outside. It was very early and the sun was not yet above the skyscraper that Erik's windows looked upon. He glanced at the bed, noting that there was no one in it, nor the chair next to it. He turned to walk to the bathroom and was about to look inside when an arm snaked around his neck from behind yanking him back against a hard warm chest. The pressure being exerted on his windpipe caused him to gag. He was about to struggle when a chilling voice whispered in his ear.

"So, you thought to sic your psychiatrist on me, did you? Do not attempt to get free of me or I'll snap your neck in two, good doctor."

Brad thought of the lasso and stilled in the deadly embrace, knowing Erik could make good on his threat. The anger in Erik's quiet voice bordered on rage and Brad wanted to live to see another day.

"What were you hoping would happen, Bradley? That he would lock me up and throw away the proverbial key?" Erik applied more force again. "I want you to understand something. _I will never be a prisoner again!_ I spent enough time in a cage in my youth."

Brad began to see white spots in front of his eyes, a blackness creeping upon him. He started sagging toward the floor, the lack of oxygen causing his limbs to turn liquid.

Erik held him up and allowed some air to flow through the doctor's windpipe. "No, no. No passing out for you, I'm afraid. I need you here this morning for the removal of the bandages. I can't believe you would betray me this way. I trusted you with my life and what did you do? Sent that shrink here to declare me insane."

If he hadn't been in the process of being strangled, Brad would have laughed at Erik's use of the word "shrink". It sounded so odd coming from him.

"Why does everyone want to hurt me? From the time I was a small boy, almost everyone in my life has wanted to hurt me." Erik was shaking Brad back and forth now, making Brad's arms jiggle back and forth like a puppet whose strings were being jerked. It was only then that he realized he was up on his tippy toes. He'd known Erik was tall, but hadn't had an opportunity to get the full effect of his height.

"It's not my fault I was born deformed. I was called the devil's child, evil. Laughed at and scorned, beaten, starved, ridiculed! Now that's all about to change and you want to take it away from me? I won't allow it, do you hear me? Do you?"

Brad struggled with all his might, succeeding in getting a couple of good gulps of air. "Erik, I'm sorry! Let me go. I'll explain! You've got it all wrong," he croaked.

Erik considered for a moment then flung Brad roughly from him. "Speak, doctor and do it quickly before I change my mind."

Brad sank to his knees, sucking in air, filling his lungs with the precious oxygen. When he turned his eyes to Erik, he was caught in their odd depths. They were actually glowing, a blue fire in the bandaged face. His chest heaved with the effort of trying to talk. "I was trying to—verify the- things you t-told me the other day." He took in more air then pressed on. "I had to know if you were telling me the truth, to know what I was dealing with. I just don't have people tell me they're from another century every day, you know." He used the knob on the bathroom door to help himself to his feet.

Erik had moved to block the door to the hallway, making it impossible for Brad to escape. A slow burning anger began to build inside Brad. He didn't have to put up with being assaulted by this man.

"God damn it, Erik! Think! If you're the educated man I think you are, then you have to realize that I'd have to check you out. I did and everything you told me checks out, from the money you had on you, to your clothes and that lasso thing."

"Ah, so you know what that is now, do you? What do you intend to do about me? Will you help me to start a new life here in this time or must I kill you to keep you silent?" Erik took a couple malevolent steps toward Brad. His silent movements brought a big cat to Brad's mind. Silent and deadly.

"Help you? Kill me?" He'd never been threatened with his life before and couldn't wrap his mind around Erik's question.

"Yes, you see it wouldn't be the first time I've killed a man. In fact, I'm quite skillful at it and don't mind doing it when necessary. So, Bradley, are you going to be the first doctor I've killed or will you become my ally? Hmmm? What say you?"

All the while he was talking, Erik was prowling back and forth in front of Brad, cracking his knuckles by interlacing his fingers and stretching them palms outward. The sound of the joints popping setting Brad's teeth on edge.

Erik stopped his pacing coming a hair's breath away from Brad's face, the eerie eyes boring into his own.

He whispered, "_Make your choice, doctor," _


	6. Chapter Six

**I want to thank all my reviewers for your encouragement and the good things you've had to say about my story. As I stated in my profile, my Erik is based mainly on the work by Susan Kay, as are many stories. But my Erik is also of my own making. The future is a new frontier for Erik, so to speak and these are my own ideas about how he might respond to the things and people he encounters. I'm glad that my Erik is in keeping with how he really is. Don't be afraid to tell me if I get off course with him. Feedback is very important to me. To take care of business, the characters of the Opera belong to ALW and any resemblance in this story to actual people, places or events are purely coincidental. Now, back to the story! Enjoy, my dears!**

CHAPTER SIX

_Please don't let me piss my pants… _The words went round and round inside Brad's head. _Make your choice_, Erik had hissed and was waiting only inches away for an answer. What was he going to do? It wasn't that he didn't like Erik; he did. In spite of Erik's volatile temperament, Brad enjoyed his sense of humor and intelligence. _Wait a minute! He just admitted to murdering people and now he's threatening you. What are you thinking?_ Another part of his brain said, "What choice do you have at the moment?"

Erik was enjoying the play of emotions that flitted across the doctor's face. _He has no idea how transparent he is. _Erik kept the mirth inside. It was crucial to his existence that he sway Bradley to his side.

He breathed a bored sigh and drew back slightly. "I'm waiting, monsieur. Dr. Stepanik will be here soon. What is your answer?"

Brad wet his dry lips and swallowed. "You're really a murderer?" His eyes begged Erik to answer in the negative.

Erik nodded instead. "Yes. If you're referring to the act of taking a life in general, then yes." Erik held up and index finger as though he were a professor instructing his class. "But, in my defense, there were extenuating circumstances that will take too long to explain RIGHT NOW!"

"Ok, ok! I'll help you! But the next time you decide to manhandle me I'll call the police. What do you want from me?" Brad pushed away from the wall and walked unsteadily to the chair, sitting down heavily.

Erik allowed himself a chuckle, his good humor coming back to him with Brad's capitulation. "You call that small embrace being manhandled? Ha! Tell me; are all modern men such… wusses?" Another phrase he'd learned from TV.

Brad rubbed his sore neck and scowled at Erik. "What do you want from me?" he repeated his question, choosing to ignore the insult.

Erik came to stand before him and held out his right hand. "It's simple really. I desire your friendship. I've never had a friend before and find that I am in sad need of one. And I need someone to teach me about this world. You can do that. And I in return will be the most interesting friend you have and perhaps teach you how to use the lasso. Do we have a deal?"

Brad narrowed his eyes and clasped Erik's hand. "Deal. But let me give you a few words of advice. Friends don't strangle friends, got it?"

Erik nodded and they shook on it just as Dr. Stepanik opened the door and flipped on the overhead lights, causing the other two men to blink in the sudden, harsh light.

"Hi, Dr. Edwards, Erik." He clapped Erik on the shoulder. "Ready for the big day?" he asked with a broad smile.

"More than ready," Erik assured him. Butterflies danced in his stomach and his heart rate increased. He was finally going to see his new face.

Stepanik grew serious. "Now I have to warn you. There's still some bruising and swelling that will be visible. I don't think you'll need anymore major surgeries, just maybe a few minor touch ups. So keep that in mind when we take the dressing off."

"Yes, yes, of course. Can we just get on with it already?"

Delores popped her head in the room. "All ready, doctor?"

Stepanik laughed and turned to her. "You'd better get in here so we can get him undone. He's going to have a coronary if we don't."

Dr. Stepanik instructed Erik to sit on the bed so he could reach his head. Delores handed him a pair of scissors and he began to cut through the gauze wrapping. Erik could hardly sit still, he was so excited. He tried to calm himself by counting how many times the doctor took the bandages around his head, but it didn't work very well.

Finally the last strip of white material fell away. Dr Stepanik turned his face this way and that, examining him with a grim expression. The cool air felt so good against his skin. His face had been wrapped up for so long that he'd forgotten how good it felt for it to be uncovered.

His eyes shifted to Delores, whose mouth hung open, then on to Bradley. His stormy eyes were wide and a smile was beginning to turn his mouth upwards. Erik looked back at Dr. Stepanik. "Well? How do I look? Were the surgeries successful?"

A grin spread across the plastic surgeon's face. "I think you're going to be very pleased. Why don't you go have a look in the mirror?"

_Look in the mirror_. Memories surfaced in Erik's mind from long ago when his mother had forced him to look at himself. He'd never forgotten the first time he'd seen his horrible, monster's face. What would he see now? A sudden fear froze him to the bed and he shook his head slightly. The feel of someone taking his hand startled him and he looked up to see tears shining in Delores's eyes.

"Come with me, Erik. You'll like what you see, I promise," she said thickly, giving his arm a tug.

He rose and followed her into the bathroom where he let her pull him in front of the mirror over the sink. He kept his gaze trained on Delores.

"Erik, look. You can trust me, honey. Go on. You've been waiting for this your whole life. Don't wait any longer."

He understood her meaning. She was the only one who knew the whole story of his life and totally believed him. She'd spent many hours listening to him pour out his hurt, frustration and anger, holding his hand and comforting him. She hadn't judged him, hadn't shrank away in terror and disgust. She'd become very special to Erik and he did trust her. Completely. If she said that it would be alright, it would be so. He steeled himself and turned his head to the right.

His brilliant blue eyes reflected the light, standing out in a face that was a stranger's. The first thing he noticed was his hair. It was a rich, sable brown and it covered his entire skull instead of just little wisps of white sticking up at odd places. It was slightly wavy and fell to his chin. He touched it with his fingers amazed at how real it felt. He gave it an experimental tug, wincing at the pain the action caused in his scalp. It was attached! His gaze moved downward over a high, proud forehead and fine manly eyebrows that matched his hair. He made the muscles in his face lift his right eyebrow and it actually arched. These twin lines of hair made his strange eyes stand out even more. It was at this point that Erik caught sight of his nose.

"I have a nose!" he shouted. "Delores! I have a nose!"

Delores half laughed half cried, "Yes, you do, Erik. And it's a very nice nose, too."

His hand was shaking as he felt the new part of his face, barely laying a finger on it lest it crumble and the illusion would be gone. It _was_ a very fine nose, straight and true with nicely shaped nostrils and a patrician quality. Like royalty, Erik thought. He admired his nose for some moments, hardly daring to believe that it was true, before he noticed his mouth. Each new part of his face was a major discovery, as thought he were finding buried treasure. Where his lips had been whitish and thin before, now they were a masculine pink and had more fullness to them. A nice mouth indeed.  
"Go ahead, Erik. Smile. Please?" Delores prodded, fascinated and overjoyed for her favorite patient and friend.

Slowly, Erik pulled his lips back over his teeth- his teeth! They weren't horsy and yellow any longer! "By God! My teeth-they're white! And so beautiful." He smiled for real, mesmerized by the effect of his eyes crinkling and his teeth flashing at him. "Ha! And my skin. It looks so normal, so real! How did you do this? What kind of magic do you possess, doctor? I see what you meant about bruising and redness and so forth," Erik said, touching the red blotches that appeared periodically. There were black and blue marks under his eyes and on his cheeks. But that was nothing compared tothe wayhis face had been.

Dr. Stepanik was now standing next to Erik. "They will fade over the next couple of weeks. You won't have any need to shave. We couldn't replicate facial hair and we let your hair the same length all over so you could get it cut and styled the way you want it. I really don't see anything that's going to need attention at this point, but I want to see you back in two weeks for a check up."

Erik turned to look into the surgeon's eyes. "Back? What do you mean?"

Stepanik chuckled. "Unless Dr. Edwards has any objections, I'm releasing you from the hospital. Discharging you. You're a free man, Mr. Giry. A very nice looking free man, if I do say so myself."

"You should say so. This is all your doing. I don't know how to properly thank you for giving me a face that I can show in public." Erik's eyes grew brighter with emotion.

"Well, it wasn't all me. The foundation was there. The bone structure was very good, as you can see by the shape of your cheeks, forehead and jaw. I just finished what Mother Nature should have when you were born. It was all there, just waiting tobe broughtout." He turned and left the bathroom. "I'll send you my bill, don't worry," he said with a laugh as he turned to Brad. "So you gonna spring him?"

Brad nodded. "I don't see why not. He's not having any adverse reactions. So, if you think he's ready, then I have no objections."

"Good. See you in two weeks, Erik. Take care of that new face. I'll leave a complete set of instructions for you." He gave them a wave and headed out the door.

After allowing himself a few more moments of gazing in the mirror, Erik turned to Delores and grabbed her in an unexpected embrace. "Thank you for everything you have done for me. For being my friend and listening to my rantings. You are a rare gem, m'lady." He released her, bowing low and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

Delores's face turned pink and she giggled like a schoolgirl. Erik heard Bradley clear his throat.

"Uh, Erik?"

"Yes, Bradley?"

"I see London, I see France, I see way more than your underpants. You might want to stand back up," Brad informed him with a grin.

Erik straightened slowly, making sure to gather his gown behind him. He wagged a finger at Bradley. "Careful what you say to your new housemate, sir. You never know what pranks I might pull to exact my revenge."

"Dr. Stepanik is an artist, Erik. You're gonna have to beat the women off with a stick. You could be a movie star. And I don't go around looking at men, but damn!" Brad said. Then Erik's words registered in his brain. "Wait a minute. Housemate? What are you talking about?"

Erik arched a brow, enjoying the feeling of knowing that it looked at he intended it to look. "Well, you are my friend, aren't you?"

Brad rolled his eyes. "We're back to that again? Yes, I'm your friend. So?"

"So, friends don't let friends be homeless now do they?" Erik spread his hands in a placating gesture. "Besides it would be temporary. Just long enough for me to find my own housing. I can hardly stay with Delores, now can I?"

Brad gave a low groan. "You're a tricky bastard, aren't you? You know how to wrap people around your little finger. Fine, you can stay with me." Brad held up a finger. "Just 'til you get your own place. Deal?"

Erik grinned and laughed softly, relishing this small triumph. "Deal."

Trepidation skittered up Brad's spine. He felt as though he had just made a deal with the devil. _Or something worse_.


	7. Chapter Seven

**I would just like to thank everyone for their kind words and the continued encouragement. Sorry it took so long to get this chapter done. I think you'll like it. Enjoy.**

CHAPTER SEVEN

Erik's release was not immediate for two reasons. He had no money and he had no clothes. Brad would have given Erik some of his clothes but there was no way they would have fit since Brad was so much slighter in build. Erik wouldn't hear of anyone loaning him money. His pride made him opt to wait a few days until Brad had negotiated the sale of the sack of coins. The coin collector even wanted the sack in which Erik had carried them.

Once the sale was final, Brad had bought Erik a pair of jeans, underwear, a T-shirt, socks, a pair of sneakers and a leather jacket to ward off the early fall chill. He wasn't sure what Erik's reaction would be to the casual clothing, but he figured that if Erik was serious about living in this era then he might as well start now.

Brad waved at Mindy as he passed the nurse's station on Erik's floor on his way to Erik's room. He noticed that she looked really good today. Tearing his gaze away, he rounded the corner and noticed that Jesse was lurking outside Erik's door. The orderly seemed to be listening intently. Jesse looked up and made a shushing motion, putting an index finger to his lips. Brad walked forward slowly, his curiosity kicking into high gear. As he came closer, he began to hear something that sounded like singing. He kept on until he was standing next to Jesse. It _was_ singing. Brad didn't recognize the words; they were something foreign, Italian or French maybe. The melody was haunting, mesmerizing and Brad was soon as caught up at Jesse in listening. The voice soared one moment, ringing with longing, then dipping and fading only to soar again. The singing reached a pinnacle and then ended. Brad and Jesse just stood there for a few moments staring at each other in disbelief.

"That was Erik singing like that?" Brad asked.

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't Julie Andrews," Jesse retorted.

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow." Jesse nodded at the bag Brad carried. "That his stuff?"

"Uh huh. Guess I'd better give it to him and get him out of here." Brad responded and opened the door. Erik was standing in front of the windows, looking out on the city of New York. He turned to face Brad, a broad smile creasing his new face.

"There you are. I was beginning to think that I'd never get out of here," he greeted Brad.

"Yeah, well, I'm not much of a shopper and I couldn't decide what to get you. I only bought one outfit, figuring that you'd like to buy your own stuff. Here, try these on. I'm pretty sure they'll fit."

"Thank you," Erik said, taking the bag. He brought each item out, laying it on the bed. "Ah, yes. The casual American dress. Blue jeans." Erik noticed the underwear; briefs. He picked them up, feeling how soft they were, amazed at the breathable material.

"Those are underwear. They go on first," Brad supplied, mistaking his admiration for confusion.

Erik laughed. "Despite what you might think, Bradley, underclothing hasn't changed so much that I can't recognize it."

Brad gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

"That's quite alright," Erik told him and stripped off his gown in one fluid movement, standing stark naked.

Even being Erik's doctor, Brad was impressed with Erik's physique. _I gotta go to the gym more often_, Brad thought with jealousy as Erik donned the underwear and adjusted himself.

"They're so incredibly soft. It feels as thought I'm wearing nothing. Now for the stockings."

"Socks," Brad corrected him.

"Yes, socks. Men no longer wear stockings."

"Not unless they're a drag queen," Brad remarked with a smile.

Erik looked sharply at Brad. "Pardon?"

Brad sought how to tell Erik what he meant. "Uh, gay? Queer? Men who like men and dress up like women," he explained.

Erik comprehended. "Oh, yes, fags," Erik said the word matter of factly. "Like on _Will and Grace_. I love that Jack. Karen, too. I've heard about gay people, but I've never had much contact with them, of course." He sat on the bed and pulled the socks over his feet, as far up his legs as they would go, then stood to put the jeans on. He was stumped when he got to the zipper.

"What manner of fastener is this, Bradley? How do you go about it?"

Brad stepped forward and made to grasp the metal tab on the zipper. He almost yelped when Erik smacked his hand away.

"You'll not touch my fly!" he barked, eyes blazing.

Brad rubbed his stinging wrist. "Then how do you expect to zip it if you don't know how?"

Erik frowned, enjoying the feel of his eyebrows lowering. Then it came to him. "You have a zipper. Show me how it works with your own," he suggested after studying Brad's crotch.

"Wh-what? You want me to drop my pants?"

"Of course not! Don't be daft. Just undo them and then zip them back up."

"I don't believe I'm doing this," Brad grumbled and undid the snap of his own jeans, sliding the zipper down. "There. Happy now?"

"No, you haven't demonstrated how it goes up yet," Erik said with a muscle twitching in his face as he tried not to smile.

Jesse knocked and opened the door, coming into the room. He took in Erik's state of undress, then noticed Brad's jeans open at the fly. Looking from one to the other he said, "I'm not sure what you two are doing, but I brought your discharge papers so you don't have to stop at the desk," he said to Erik.

"Thank you, Jesse. You're a good man. We're having a lesson in zippering our pants," Erik answered, enjoying Bradley's discomfort. The doctor's face was turning red.

Jesse raised his eyebrows and gave Brad an ironic look. "You mean you don't know how to zip your pants, Doc?"

Erik threw his head back and laughed.

"Shut the fuck up, Jesse, and leave me alone." Brad stabbed a finger in Erik's direction. "He's the one who doesn't know how to zip his pants. Not me. I'm from this century, remember?"

Jesse just tsk, tsked and wagged a finger at Brad. "Such language, Doc. Well, I'll leave you two to _whatever_ it is you're doing." He dropped the papers on the bed and left, chuckling as he went.

Angrily, Brad grabbed the tab on his zipper. "Now, pay attention, 'cause I'm only showing you this once." So saying he pulled upward until the zipper stopped and then did the snap. "See? It's not hard."

Erik mimicked Brad's movements, securing the snap and looking pleased with himself. "You're right. It's not." Erik made quick work of the rest of his clothes, only having a moment of hesitation with the sneakers. "These shoes, they're incredibly comfortable." He made as if to sneak across the floor, his feet making no sound on the linoleum floor. "And silent. That could come in handy."

Brad shook his head. "I don't see how unless you're going to become a cat burglar."

Erik straightened and picked up the jacket. "Why on earth would I want to steal a cat?"

Brad couldn't help but smile. Teaching Erik about the modern world was going to be really interesting. "No, it's a type of thief. They're called that because they're very quiet. Like cats."

"Oh. I see. Well, I'm ready." Erik's stomach twisted with anxiety. He was afraid of how people would react to him. He knew he had a new face; he'd certainly spent enough time looking at it. He'd practiced his facial expressions for hours the other day, laughing at himself from time to time. Laughter. That was something he hadn't experienced very much in a positive way. He hadn't done much of it outside of using it to intimidate others. It was a good feeling to laugh with someone _and _at someone else.

But now that the moment to go out into this modern world was here, he wasn't at all confident. What if people pointed at him? Laughed or shrieked in terror at him? What about children? Dear God, children! How was he supposed to face them?

Brad saw the fear creep into Erik's eyes and understood his new friend's feelings. "Erik, it's going to be Ok. No one is going to make fun of you. The women might take a second look or two, but not because you're ugly. That's for sure. Maybe I oughta have Dr. Stepanik do some work on me. Maybe I'd get some dates then," he half joked.

"Do you really think I'll be attractive to the fairer sex?"

Brad looked Erik over from his new, very handsome face, down past the broad shoulders and chest, lean stomach and jeans that emphasized that Erik was a well blessed man. "Yeah, I don't think you'll have a problem in that area."

Erik squared his shoulders and zipped the jacket in a decisive motion. "Lead on, teacher!"

Brad grabbed the discharge papers from the bed and led the way out the door. Delores came out from behind the nurses' desk to stand before Erik.

"You'll come and see me won't you? I gave you my address and phone number, so don't be a stranger, Ok?" she said and held out a hand.

Erik took her hand and pulled her gently to him, wrapping his arms around her and laying his head on top of her gray curls. "You'll soon be sick of me, I promise. I'll call you as soon as Bradley shows me how to work the telephone," he assured her.

"You'd better," she said hugging him back.

"Thank you for everything, Delores. You are an angel." Erik drew back and planted a kiss on her forehead, then released her. "Well, wish me luck," he whispered to her. "It's my first day out in the _new_ world."

Delores smiled and said, "They won't know what hit 'em!"

Erik stood rock still in the main lobby of St. Mary's, staring out the door at the city outside. Cars, as he'd learned they were called, drove up to the entrance, depositing people of all different ages, races and classes. These new-age vehicles also picked up people as they exited the building. He watched them go in and out, much the same as ants filing in and out of the hill. Erik was shocked by the diversity he saw; everything from the very elderly to small children passed by him without so much as a glance. He couldn't believe that woman didn't scream when they looked his way. Men didn't challenge him and shield their wives from his presence. Children didn't shriek and run away in terror to their parents. In fact, no one noticed him, except a couple of women who looked him up and down and offered suggestive smiles that he did not return. After one such incident he turned to Bradley and asked, "Are all modern women harlots?" in a loud voice.

"Shut up, Erik. People can hear you, y'know!"

"Well, are they?" Erik insisted, but at least he lowered his voice a few decibels

"No, they're not. But now's not the time nor the place to discuss such things," Bradley responded, then shook his head. "Geez, I'm starting to talk like you. C'mon, let's go shopping and then go home. I'm exhausted and it's only 10 a.m."

Reluctantly, Erik followed Bradley out the door. St. Mary's had been his sanctuary while he recovered and tried to make sense of what was happening to him. He'd asked so many questions about how he'd come to be in the future. How had a storm, an act of God transported him so far away from his own time and indeed his own country? Erik's mind was ever active, always working, but he'd not been able to solve the mystery of his time travel. He hadn't really thought about God since his early years when he'd turned away from a god that would give him such a hideous face and make his life a living hell. Alone in his room at night, Erik had wondered if this was God's way of telling him that He did exist, that He was in complete control and could do with Erik as He chose. But, why? Why did he matter so much to a god that apparently had so much to do to right the world?

From everything he'd seen on his television, Erik knew that the earth was in a very sad way. Everyone was at war with someone it seemed, whether it be country against country or race against race. It seemed that peace was a very rare commodity. Peace. Something he'd never known and wondered if he ever would.

As he and Bradley crossed the hard concrete and macadam, he turned to look back at St. Mary's. Shielding his eyes from the bright October sunlight, he looked up at her, marveling at the majestic beauty of his friend. And she was a friend. He'd been safe there, shielded from the unknown world beyond. He'd wrongly assumed that the hospital was an ugly, modern building like the ones he looked at from his windows. Her lines were muted and graceful, though she did show her age. This was a building that had been built with love and careful planning. He should have known from her comforting presence that she would be beautiful. Erik could see her quality with his acute architect's eye and he rejoiced in knowing that such a building had been where he'd been transformed from a monster to a man. He would miss her and the people he'd come to know there.

"Erik? What are you doing?" Brad had come back for Erik when he'd discovered that Erik wasn't following him to the car.

"She's beautiful."

Brad scanned the street, trying to figure out which woman Erik was referring to. "Who's beautiful?"

"St. Mary's"

Brad put a hand on Erik's forehead, knowing it would be slapped away. He wasn't disappointed. "No fever. You're admiring a hospital?"

Erik frowned down at Bradley. "I've been trained as an architect and stone mason, my friend. Seeing the beauty in a building is second nature to me. And this is a very lovely building. More than a building, really. Think of the work that went into designing her, to making sure that every detail was perfect. And that's only on paper." Erik shook his head sadly. "I think that you modern people have forgotten to look around you and see the beauty that's around you. You should take more advantage of it."

Brad looked up at St. Mary's, the place where he'd come to work for so long and yet had not noticed the things that Erik talked about. "I guess I'm always so worried about what's going on inside that I don't really look at the outside. I'm that way with people, too," Brad said with sudden insight. "I don't remember people's faces very much, but I remember what was wrong with them and how we treated them. It doesn't really matter to me what they look like, only how I can help them get better."

He was surprised to feel Erik's hand on his shoulder. "'Tis a pity there aren't more people like you in the word, Bradley. I might not have had such a wretched existence if there were."

Brad looked over at Erik, the raw hurt and anger in Erik's voice drawing his attention. "Was it really that bad?"

Erik's jaw clenched, his eyes turning to blue ice as he met Brad's gaze. "Imagine your mother being loath to touch you because you were so hideous that the thought of doing so made her sick. She makes you wear a mask so that she doesn't have to look upon you and then she finds someone to sell you to, to be rid of you once and for all." Erik closed his eyes a moment, swallowed and then opened them again. "Yes, it was that bad, Bradley. That bad and more."

Brad was silent for a few moments as Erik's words sunk in. "Yeah, well, it looks like that's all going to change, Erik. It's time for you to start a new life. I mean, we don't know how you got here, so we don't know how to send you back. So until that would happen, and it probably never will, you still have to live. So, let's get started. What'dya say?"

Erik stared at Bradley for a moment. Yes, his past life was far away, that was true. He was about to embark on a life that he'd never dreamt was possible, where he wouldn't be shunned or hunted like a wild animal. The people who had hurt him in the very distant past couldn't touch him here, he realized. His mother, Raoul, and most importantly, Christine weren't here to torment and torture him any longer. Was it possible for him to begin again? Could he get past his former life and go on? He looked around him again at the people who were still walking by him and Bradley. He began to see possibility where once there was none. Erik took in the tall buildings around him, beyond the parking lots for the hospital where the strange automobiles waited patiently for their owners to come and drive them. Yes, there was a whole city of possibilities out there, just waiting to be discovered by him.

A grin began to spread across Erik's face and his eyes grew bright as he turned back to the still waiting Bradley. "I say, what are we waiting for?"


	8. Chapter Eight

**Thanks to everyone for all the reviews and encouragement. Sorry it has taken so long to update, but my PC at home died and I haven't had the time at work to type up the new chapter until now. I've been doing everything longhand and, of course, that takes more time. Well, enough of that; on with the story. Sorry this is rather short, but it's better than nothing! LOL.**

CHAPTER EIGHT

The black SUV drove up a horseshoe shaped driveway, stopping in front of a flight of steps that led up to the large, ornate front door of a white mansion. The estate was at least a hundred years old and was kept in immaculate condition. The grounds were lovely, the landscaper being an artist with anything that could be planted. Two large maple trees stood sentinal; one on either side of the house on the front lawn. They were in brilliant fall color with their gold and rust leaves drawing the eye of those who cared to look.

Normally, Erik would have chosen to look at such beauty. He would have taken in the majestic lines of the mansion; noted the graceful sweep of the veranda that wrapped around the entire first floor. Normally, he would have, but right that minute Erik was concentrating on bringing his pulse under control. He was trying to get his limbs to stop shaking. He sat in the passenger seat of Bradley's car-_evil car_-, collecting himself sufficiently so that when he did get out of the vehicle his legs would hold him.

Brad watched Erik with concern knotting his brow. "Erik, I know this was a totally knew experience and that it was probably frightening, but I drove as slowly as I could and not get pushed off the road by other cars."

"Yes, so you keep telling me, but _mon dieu! _Such speed! I don't understand how you can control it and still go so fast." Now that they were sitting still, safe outside Bradley's home, Erik started reliving the ride. Initially, he'd been fascinated with the workings of the machine, asking Bradley how it worked and what all the gauges and so forth were. Though he now had a rudimentary understanding of how it worked, he was still having trouble fathoming it all. His analytical mind began trying to unravel the mystery of this modern mode of transportation. Bradley cut short his musings.

"Well, I do control it. We're here. C'mon; let's go inside and get you settled," Brad urged and opened his door. Erik followed suit, grateful to place his feet on solid ground again. He was finding it hard to adjust to being out in the daylight. It made him feel vulnerable; something he was unaccustomed to being. He was used to moving about after dark because it had been easier to hide his face. It was going to take him a while to get used to the fact that he no longer had to hide in the shadows and that he could face people without fear of persecution.

Taking a deep breath, Erik squared his shoulders, trying to prepare himself for meeting Bradley's family. Along the way, Bradley had told him that he lived at home with his mother and sister. His father had died two years previously. Brad had also told him that there was a nice third floor apartment in the house they lived in that he thought would give Erik the privacy he needed and yet he would be close to them as well. What he had failed to inform Erik of, was the fact that they obviously came from money and lived in a mansion. Erik asked Brad about it now.

"Bradley, why did you not tell me that you are a man of considerable means?"

Brad cracked a half smile as he grabbed some shopping bags from the back seat. "It's not really all that important to me, that's why. It doesn't really have anything to do with who I am."

"Hmm. I'm finding that there's more to you than meets the eye." Erik said in speculation.

Brad handed Erik some of the bags. "Yeah, well, it's that way with most people, isn't it?" he countered.

Erik made a noncommital sound and followed Bradley into the foyer of the house. By now his heart rate had returned to normal and his fear had abated. He was able to appreciate the elegance of the small chandelier that hung in the foyer. It was fine crystal and brought back memories of another chandelier from another time.

Closing his eyes, Erik could see the huge chandelier of the Paris Opera House clearly in his mind's eye. He heard again the screams of the opera goers as it fell and he could feel their fear again. Fear that he had caused and reveled in.

A hand on his arm brought him back to the present. He found Bradley staring at him.

"You Ok?"

"Yes. Fine."

"Brad! You're home!" a young female voice drew their attention. Coming rapidly down the stairs was a young woman the likes of which Erik had never laid eyes on. Her short, jet black hair stood out from her head in spikes. Huge, dark eyes were rimmed in black eyeliner making them appear even larger. Her lips were done in a deep, blood red, full and pouting.

Her choice of dress also puzzled Erik. She wore a black tank top that exposed well-developed muscles in her arms and some kind of baggy pants with splotches of varying shades of green covering them. Her feet were encased in clunky black boots that laced halfway up her calves.

She bounded down the stairs and launched herself at Bradley, who had no choice but to catch her. He laughed and swung her around, earning a squeal of delight from her. He put her down after a moment and brought her over to Erik.

"Erik, this is my sister, Annie. Annie, this is Erik Giry. He's the guy I told you about that's going to be staying with us a while."

"Oh yeah, cool. Nice to meet you, Erik. You can call me Spike," Annie told him and held out her hand.

"Why would I call you 'Spike'?" Erik quieried.

Annie picked up on his French accent. "Because all my friends do and since you're a friend of Brad's that makes you a friend of mine," she replied in flawless French.

Erik's eyebrows rose in surprise. "How do you know French? You speak it wonderfully," he complimented this strangely dressed young woman.

Annie laughed, enjoying his astonishment. "I've studied French since high school and I've been to France several times."

Erik's excitement grew with as he listened to her reply. "Have you been to the Paris Opera House?"

"Oh, yes; it's beautiful! And the operas are wonderful!"

Brad was starting to feel left out as they rattled on together in French. He had never mastered the language and could only pick out a word here or there.

"Uh, guys. How about we show Erik up to his apartment and get his stuff put away?" he said.

Annie smiled and switched back to English. "Sorry, bro. I forgot you don't speak French. I just got carried away 'cause I don't have anyone to speak it with very much. We'll have to continue this conversation, Erik."

"Yes, we will. It's been a while since I've had anyone to speak in my native tongue with as well," he cast Bradley a frown when he noticed his agitation. "Perhaps we should do as Bradley has directed us."

"Yeah, before he blows a gasket or something," Annie said and grabbed a few of the bags that Erik was holding. "Allow me to help, monsieur."

"Ok, you two. Quit ganging up on me," Brad groused and headed up the stairs.

The other two followed him, exchanging smiles as they went.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Sorry it's taken so long everyone. I hope you like it!**

CHAPTER NINE

The rooms that Bradley led them to were spacious and beautifully done. Erik supposed the rooms were a little too feminine for him, but that could be remedied with a few subtle changes. The door from the stairs opened into a sitting area. The walls were an eggshell white, while the curtains and carpet were a lush burgundy. A plush cream-colored sofa and recliner were situated facing an entertainment cabinet made of dark cherry wood. All the wood in the room was of the same wood; the coffee table, end tables and writing desk that stood near the two windows on the wall opposite the door. Various paintings of quality hung around the room.

Each of the rooms was done in a different color scheme. The bedroom was a light dove gray with deep midnight blue curtains, carpeting and bed linens. The blue and gray theme was carried over into the small bath attached to the bedroom. The kitchen walls were a light buttery yellow, with curtains that were made from a daisy-print material, giving it a cheery air. Erik hated it. He abhorred yellow.

"So what do you think, Erik? Will the apartment be Ok for you?" Brad asked once the tour was complete.

"Oh, definitely. Oui. They are very nice rooms. The kitchen is a bit bright, perhaps, but otherwise they'll do nicely."

Bradley's relief was evident. "Great. Well, I have to be getting back to the hospital to check on some patients. Annie, can I count on you to give Erik a hand with his unpacking and show him around the rest of the house?"

"You got it, bro. No sweat. Erik's in good hands with me," Annie agreed readily.

"Erik, will you be Ok if I go?"

Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Bradley, go tend to your patients. I'll be just fine."

"Ok. Good. I'll be home in time for dinner. Where's Mom, Annie?"

"Oh, she had a Women's League meeting. She should be home for dinner, too," Annie answered and cracked her gum.

"Alright. I'll see you guys later," Brad pointed a finger at Annie. "Behave."

"Who? Me? Always," Annie said with a devilish smile.

Brad arched a brow at her and left the room.

Annie clasped her hands in front of her. "Well, let's get your things put away." She lapsed into French again.

Erik allowed Annie to take him by the hand and lead him back into the bedroom. He was too stunned to object. He couldn't believe that she would touch him voluntarily. Then he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror that stood in a corner of the room. He almost turned around to see who had followed them into the room but stopped himself in time.

"I still can't get used to the way I look," he mused out loud.

"Yeah, well, you're lookin' good, let me tell you," Annie said with honesty.

"Really? Do you think so? I mean, I would value your opinion as a woman."

"Stand still. No, take off your shirt first," she instructed him.

"I will not!" Erik protested, shock widening his eyes.

Annie rolled her dark eyes at him. "Calm down. You're nowhere near my type. I want to critique you. I'm a photographer. I take pictures of people for a living."

"Not your type," Erik repeated. "What does that mean?"

"It means that although you're very pretty to look at, I'm not sexually attracted to you. So it's Ok for you to take your shirt off around me."

Erik shook his head, still not understanding. "Why do you need me to take my shirt off? Can't you look at me with it on?"

Annie sighed. "Because I need to see your physique, your muscle tone and so forth. It's a study of anatomy, if that makes you feel better."

Reluctantly, Erik took his shirt off, feeling like a scoundrel. He'd never been naked before a woman before, or really anyone else and he was extremely self-conscious about doing so now. Besides, this was Bradley's sister and he didn't want to do anything improper and anger Bradley after all he'd done for him. But curiosity got the better of him and he decided to see where Annie was going with this.

"Ok. Good. Now just stand still a minute," Annie instructed and walked slowly around him, taking him in from every angle. "Not bad," she said after a few minutes. "You definitely have potential."

Erik crossed his arms across his chest, not exactly pleased with her remark. "I gather you think there's room for improvement?"

"Well, you're extremely pale. I mean, unless you want to look like a vampire, you need a tan. And you're still a little on the skinny side. No offense. You asked my opinion and I'm giving it to you. You should bulk up somewhat."

"Yes. I've always been very thin. Eating has not been among my chief concerns in life. What exactly do you recommend I do?"

Annie considered a moment before answering. "You need to work out, do weight lifting and cardio training. You also should eat a lot of protein and carbs. And we should take you to a tanning bed. Even if you don't get really tan, that's fine. At least you'll look more natural."

Erik groaned and sat on the bed, covering his face with his hands. "What is cardio training? And what does a tanning bed do?"

Annie came to sit beside him. "Don't worry, Erik. I'll help you. You do realize that Brad told me everything, don't you? I know everything. Well, at least as much as Brad does. I have a feeling though that there's a lot more to you than we know at this point. Am I right?"

Erik looked down at Annie, trying to determine exactly what he wanted her to know and what he didn't. She was such a pretty girl, despite her odd garb. He suddenly understood what she meant by "not her type". She was not his type either. He felt no pull of attraction for her, no spark even though she had pretty dark eyes and full lips. And she was slender and round in all the right places, yet he just couldn't imagine himself… with her.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he challenged her. After all, he didn't know her very well and although he trusted Bradley, he wasn't sure about Annie.

"Because I'm used to keeping secrets. I was very good at it when I was in the Army. I did a few undercover assignments before I was hurt and sent home." Her dark eyes became darker, her mouth drawing down at the corners.

"They accept women in the military now?" he asked with amazement.

"Yeah. I was a captain when I got hurt. They offered me a desk job, but I'm not cut out for that. I need to be where the action is. So now I'm going through the police academy," Annie told him with a smile.

"Do you mean to tell me that you want to chase down thugs and throw people in prison?"

Annie laughed at Erik's expression of disbelief. "That's what I'm telling you. They let women do almost anything they want these days. Except become president. It'll be a while before that happens."

"President of what?"

"The United States of America, silly."

Erik scowled. He didn't like being laughed at. "I'm not silly."

"I was just teasing. You'd better toughen up, buddy. I like to tease. A lot."

"I guess I have a lot to learn about humor," he replied, relaxing once he realized that she meant no harm.

"And I'm the perfect teacher. So, how 'bout you put that shirt back on and I give you the grand tour?" Annie bounced up from the bed. "We can get you unpacked later. I want to see what you think of the place."

"I'd like that, Spike," he agreed and moved to put his shirt back on. "That is what you'd rather be called isn't it?"

"Yep," she said with a pleased smile. "We'll have to come up with a nickname for you."

"No. Erik is just fine. No one has called me by my given name for many years and it's nice to hear it again. So please call me Erik."

His request was so heartfelt and earnest that Annie couldn't refuse him. "Ok. Erik it is. C'mon. Let's take that tour."

Two hours later found Erik and Annie in one of the two attics that Maple Manor possessed. Erik had learned many things about the estate from Annie, including its name. Very fitting, Erik had thought as he remembered the numerous maple trees on the grounds.

"I haven't been up here in years, Erik. Feel like spooking around a little and seeing what we find?" Her eyes were alight with child-like delight at the prospect.

Glancing around at all the trunks and boxes that were stacked neatly, Erik caught her enthusiasm. Perhaps a little digging around would yield something interesting. What could it hurt to rummage around for a bit?

"Fine with me. Where shall we start?"

Annie clapped her hands and turned to a large wooden trunk on her left. "How about right here?" The lid creaked as she lifted it. Once she was sure it would stay open, she began to sort through the contents. "Wow, look, Erik. This stuff is really old."

He moved to stand beside her, gazing down on the clothing that looked to be from the last century. _His _century. He lifted out a blue taffeta dress with a bow in the back. It was a finely made frock that some seamstress from long ago had labored over for some woman of quality. He laid the garment down across another trunk.

"Ooooh!" Annie squealed in delight behind him. "Erik! Put this on!"

Erik turned back to see what had her so excited. The black, sable cape she held up was of superb quality, lined in satin and in perfect condition. He took the luxurious cape from Annie, swirling it expertly around his shoulders and settling it into place. As he felt the heavy material wrap around him, encasing him in a familiar sensation, Erik felt a power that had been absent for a long time flow back into his limbs. Up in the dark, slightly must attic, he could almost believe he was back in the Paris Opera house, walking high above the stage along the wooden catwalks, ready to take revenge on any that dared defy him.

Annie watched Erik as he wrapped the cloak closely around him and then spread his arms wide, the cape forming psuedo wings. The grin that was spreading across his face she could only describe as evil and she was torn between fascinated awe and fear. It seemed to her that he was growing in size, although she knew that wasn't possible. Suddenly he threw back his head and laughed and the sound was unlike anything Annie had ever heard in her life. She shrank back from Erik, her dark eyes going round with fear and yet there was a part of her that admired the darkness in the laugh that longed to be a part of what it promised. The sound reverberated off the rafters of the attic, enveloping Annie and paralyzing her. So great was her fright that she didn't remember when the sound had changed from laughing to singing.

Erik was advancing on her now, his sensuous mouth forming the words to the song in French, his unearthly beautiful voice sliding around her, rendering her motionless. She couldn't have moved if she tried. His azure eyes blazed with an unholy light that held her mesmerized as he drew closer, ever closer, until she could feel the heat from his body radiating from him. She swallowed once, twice, her throat working as she tried to protest; against what she did not know. No sound would come from her voice box, though and try as she might, she couldn't move her legs.

For Erik, Annie had ceased to exist. It was Christine before him now and he was wooing her with all his power. It was her face he saw, not Annie's. His lovely Christine was with him; the girl with the soaring voice and lovely face. She was here and she wouldn't get away from him again. It was the fear in Annie's eyes that finally brought Erik out of his fantasy. His haunting voice trailed off as he realized what he had been doing to the innocent girl before him. This wasn't Christine. It was Bradley's sister standing in front of him, shaking. Annie felt the strength seep back into her arms and legs with the absence of his voice. She choked out a sob, turned and fled before Erik could gather his wits enough to stop her.

Guilt crashed down on Erik, the weight of it forcing him to sit on one of the dusty trunks. What did he do? Why had he offended Annie in such a manner? It was as though something else had taken him over. The old Erik wouldn't have worried about it, wouldn't have really cared. What was happening to him? Was he changing? Had he changed? Did he want to change? The questions without answers swirled around in his foggy mind, causing his head to begin to ache. Erik raised his head and screamed at the peaked roof overhead in frustration, then descended the stairs from the attic and made his way to his suite, not realizing that he was still wearing the cloak that billowed about him as he strode down the hallway.


End file.
